The Morning Before Dusk
by ptolemel
Summary: Set just after OoPT - It will eventually include lots of fun stuff with snakes, surprise neighbours, new talents and DADA teachers. Enjoy!
1. A Black Owl

Ok, this is my first fanfic, so please don't kill me if things go terribly wrong. And I mean TERIBBLY! Plus please R/R!  
  
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own this because JR was the annoying genius to write it first. If she had only given me a bit more time...  
  
Blood wasn't meant to seep,  
  
But some cuts just run to deep,  
  
An unfinished mystery,  
  
Buried deep in history,  
  
The past is locked from prying eyes,  
  
The future built on grounds of lies,  
  
Where does the truth reside,  
  
It can't run but it can hide...  
  
By me. Has relevance in future plot.  
  
Harry Potter was sitting on his bed, glaring ferociously at a book, kicking the floorboards and in a generally terrible mood. But then again he had been in a terrible mood ever since he arrived back for the school holidays exactly a week ago.  
  
Now for a normal boy this could be because he had been utterly ignored by his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin excluding glares, but Harry Potter had given up on any wish to be normal a long time ago.  
  
No – involving his relatives this was the best summer yet, and being ignored was exactly what he needed. Hedwig was being aloud to happily fly somewhere above his head and could even go out at night when 'the nosy neighbours won't be able to see the dratted bird' as his Aunt Petunia had so kindly put it.  
  
This was hilariously ironic as Petunia was the head of the whole crowd of 'nosy neighbours' and could most often be seen with her long neck stuck out into somebody's garden or gossiping with 'friends' she happened to meet up with. Her only other regular activity was fussing constantly over her precious 'Duddikins', who had over the year gained another stone of muscle along with several stones of fat. Dudley might have been tempted to test out his new strength on Harry, but along with not wanting another run in with magic, it was really quite bothersome to get up.  
  
But all this aside, the real reason that this raven-haired boy was now sullenly turning the page of his strange-looking book with a glare that could kill at a hundred metres, was that his Godfather was dead. Not that he would ever admit this fact out loud, or recently any fact out loud as he hadn't spoken for seven days.  
  
Sirius is dead. A voice in his head echoed cruelly.  
  
He had been desperately trying to distract himself with other activities – his Hogwarts books had not been taken away from him so he diligently studied them; or at least stared at the pages. He had tried to start some sort of diary but had failed, in the end deciding that it would be too much risk if someone found it. Though he knew many charms that could easily conceal the writing he didn't dare use his wand for fear of being expelled.  
  
So instead he just sat staring at worn pages on a lumpy bed.  
  
"You'll never guess what!" a high pitched squeal that could clearly be identified as Petunia interrupted his thoughts, "It's the neighbours! They're moving out!"  
  
Harry got up and closed the ajar door before plonking back down of his bed. Unfortunately the 'exciting' conversation from downstairs floated through the poorly insulated house as he attempted to get back to some work.  
  
"They are?" responded Dudley in what sounded like a suspiciously fake shocked tone, "Tell me, did they mention anything about someone setting alight there garden, maybe...a couple of times?"  
  
"Yes my little Duddiwuddikins they did! You never know what these street type boys will do these days...I'm so glad you didn't turn out like them my little darling!" she exclaimed in a voice rising in a crescendo.  
  
Harry mimed puking for no-one to see, and wondered how his Aunt could possibly believe it was anyone but Dudley. Uncle Vernon had even given him a lighter the other day.  
  
"I'll have to see who the new neighbours are of course – we'll have to arrange a tea with them I should suspect. Nothing to fancy, but I do hope they are a nice proper little family like us..."  
  
Groaning, Harry buried his head into a pillow. Another evening spent trying not to make a sound in his room. He lay for a minute before sitting up again and immediately wishing he hadn't. Downstairs another voice had entered the conversation, and it was definitely angry.  
  
"BOY!" It shouted through the ceiling unquestionably Uncle Vernon, "I want a word with you NOW!"  
  
Groaning once more, Harry lifted himself up and made his way downstairs. It was utterly typical that the first sentence voiced towards him would be a shouting demand.  
  
Reluctantly he reached the bottom of the stair case to find three people. One seemed to be puffed up like a balloon with rocking waves of fat and muscle, with his seven double chins almost covering the smirk plastered between two puffy cheeks. Almost.  
  
The second – a taller, thin women - had gone almost white with shock. Harry wondered what could get her so distressed when she had so successfully developed the art of disregarding Harry-related issues for so long.  
  
Finally the third man spoke, stuttering and purple with rage. What have I done this time? Thought Harry miserably.  
  
"This...this...thing, was on our roof for a whole...a whole..." here he paused and gulped down a yell for the walls were thin, "an hour, boy!" he hissed dangerously, thrusting a rather startled pitch black owl at Harry.  
  
"And the neighbours...they saw it!" shrieked Petunia before dissolving into tears.  
  
Dudley instantly wobbled over to place a fat hand tenderly on his Mother's back, shooting Harry another leer.  
  
Vernon was the first to collect himself and chose to continue, "If they hadn't have been already packing their bags I don't know what we would have done. They even pointed it out to us, asking us if we knew what it was doing there in the daytime, boy! An owl here in the daytime!"  
  
Before Harry's Uncle could say anything more, Harry noticed a small black letter tied neatly to the owl's leg. He slipped it off carefully, making sure that the man didn't see it as his rage picked up and continued. He would never actually hit Harry, with the threat of a murderous Godfather to take vengeance. The only problem was that excuse didn't quite work anymore now that the Godfather in question was dead. But Uncle Vernon didn't know that.  
  
He's dead. Repeated the voice for the hundredth time, He's dead, and all because of you.  
  
Harry shook his head in anger. There was no way it could ever be true. Sirius couldn't just die, he had always just been there. For the last two years he was just like a solid. Like a rock. Now rocks don't go disappearing, do they? All that happened was he fell through a veil and now everybody was running around like...well as if...he had died.  
  
Uncle Vernon noticed that his nephew – not that he would ever use the word on the boy – was not paying the utmost attention that he should be. It enraged Vernon further that he seemed to merely be staring off into space. Now he should be staring at Vernon with at least a little fear in his eyes. Yes, after hours of practicing his delightfully purple face with matching scowl, Vernon was not at all pleased with the results it was getting him. He glared, trying to think of a way to threaten the boy before noticing the small black envelope in his hands.  
  
Viciously he snatched it from Harry's hands and ripped open the top. Unfolding the crisp parchment, his eyes began to scan the page for whatever nonsense those...people, or rather...things would be sending him at such a normal time of day, and his face lit up into a cruel smile.  
  
This was extremely short, but in future the chapters should hopefully get longer. R/R PLEASE! 


	2. If Only Hermione Was Here

Second chapter coming up...  
  
Disclaimer: I am not J K Rowling in disguise, therefore I did not write Harry Potter and am not a millionheir. Boo Hoo. Now on with the chapter.  
  
A/N: Thanks a million to Phyllida and Linky2 my first reviewers – Linky2, you were right about the letter (note to self: think of plot to fool clever people).  
  
Viciously he snatched the letter from Harry's hands and ripped open the top. Unfolding the crisp parchment, his eyes began to scan the page for whatever nonsense those...people, or rather...things would be sending him at such a normal time of day, and his face lit up into a cruel smile.  
  
"So as I was saying...actually what was I saying? Well anyway, let's move onto more interesting topics."  
  
Dudley and Petunia stared at Vernon as if he had gone mad, but he only continued with his eyes lit in delight.  
  
"Everything alright at that...school of yours? How's your dear old Godfather?"  
  
Harry instantly paled and pleaded to whoever was listening that the letter couldn't have mentioned anything like that.  
  
"Yes boy, been keeping a little secret from us have you? Because this letter seems to say that your Godfather is dead. But that couldn't be right now could it? After all, who would be able to protect you without your dear old, fellow murdering Godfather?"  
  
He took a step towards Harry who was still perched with one foot on the stairs, his grin now practically overtaking the vast mass of his purple face.  
  
This can not be happening. If he knows about Sirius then...this can not be happening! Harry thought desperately, He just can't know this! If only I could just get my wand and use obliviate...  
  
"Managed to kill him off along with your parents and school friend, I guess. I knew it would happen eventually but I just didn't know that delight would come so soon!" Boomed Uncle Vernon's voice, practically choking with glee.  
  
No...no...no...he just can't...I need to use obliviate!  
  
Harry frantically tried to think of ways to use legal magic but the ministry would jump at the chance to prosecute him again...If only Hermione was here...  
  
"Well maybe this will start to pay back your insolence for the past fifteen years you ungrateful freak!" he cried, backhanding Harry straight across the face. A cut sprung fresh from his cheek and Harry froze in shock.  
  
Obliviate, damn it, obliviate!  
  
"We've put up with you under this house for too long you swine!"  
  
Vernon swung a punch and Harry recovered his senses a second to late, dodging aside but still with the blow scraping his jaw bone.  
  
Obliviate! He mentally screamed.  
  
"You're as bad as your murdering freak of a Godfather!" A missed punch swung past Harry's face so close he flinched and darted to the side again.  
  
Obliviate!  
  
"Thank god that piece of filth is finally de-"  
  
But before he ever managed to finish his sentence, the most murderous voice coming from his nephew that he had ever heard, half screamed and half spat out the word 'Obliviate!'.  
  
Harry froze. His uncle was looking around blankly before noticing someone was standing in front of him. He gave his customary glare before turning around to face his wife.  
  
"So what were you talking about darling? Neighbours moving, eh?"  
  
Petunia faltered a minute before replying.  
  
"I guess I was Vernon. So sorry; I just blanked out there for a second," she paused, before squealing in excitement, "Oh I wonder what our new neighbours will be like! They better be more polite than that horrid couple down the road..."  
  
And so the conversation started up again with Harry left forgotten by the staircase, the couple oblivious to even the few obvious cuts adorning his right cheek. He fingered them just too make sure they were real and winced as his nails hit a newly formed bruise. Unless he was very much mistaken, he had just used wandless magic, but with a spell. Now from obvious experience (and random facts Hermione made it her job to force feed him), he was very much aware that wandless magic could be used in stressful situations. But he had never heard – even in Hermione's long and rambling one sided conversations – of a spell being issued without a wand and succeeding.  
  
After looking up one more time in confusion, he carefully picked up the black letter lying abandoned on the floor, looked around for the small owl who had long fled from the scene, and turned in a daze to go back up the stairs. A foot caught the back of his ankle and tripped him up so that he only just managed to right himself.  
  
"I don't know what you did to them but your tricks didn't work on me," came the vicious whisper from Dudley behind him, "Just don't try anything...like...like that again," he stated with only a slight tremble in his voice. Harry almost laughed; Dudley was obviously scared no matter what performances he put up, and images such as a fat Dudley with a pig's tail or an even fatter Dudley with a four foot long tongue suddenly came drifting into Harry's mind.  
  
Harry actually laughed out loud much to his relatives annoyance, turned his back on three sets of identical glares and walked calmly up to his room, suddenly in a much better mood.  
  
*  
  
It was quite a while after all clocks had struck midnight, and Harry Potter was sitting in his room with a flashlight held between his teeth and several books balanced in each hand. The one currently open on his lap was titled 'Amazing Feats of Startlingly Amazing Witches and Wizards' by Angela Anorak, which already had three articles about him inside, most terribly exaggerating the actual events.  
  
He had been searching for hours through the few Wizarding books he had, but still couldn't find anything on Wandless Spells. After returning to his room he had been worried that the ministry would have detected magic in the area, but after half an hour on edge he decided they hadn't. After all, the letter that had come the year before was startlingly quick.  
  
Thinking that this might become very useful if he could just work it out, Harry had wasted an hour trying to charm everything in sight and feeling quite a fool for doing so. Eventually his Uncle had heard him muttering 'unordinary garbage' and had threatened to lock him in his cupboard all summer, much do Harry's amusement. Now that Vernon had forgotten the letter (something that didn't seem to be wearing off) he wouldn't dare do such a thing with a 'murderer' on his back.  
  
The letter had been just a short but formal one from Dumbledore:  
  
Dear Harry, I am sorry to have to write with bad news once more and hope you are coping well. Ignoring certain protests, the ministry has decided that Sirius can  
not be given an official funeral (the news seemed to leak to Fudge – we will have to be a touch more careful) because of his current situation. I  
am trying to arrange a private meeting for his nearest and dearest, but  
would like your opinion on any proceedings before they are finalised.  
Yours, Dumbledore  
  
Though Harry was considerably less furious at his Headmaster, the words 'a touch more careful' flew him into another rage. Dumbledore should have been a lot more careful about everything. He very much wished he had more of the man's stupid little ornaments to break, and for once didn't feel even the slightest embarrassed about breaking the first set.  
  
His anger ended quickly and melted into another depression which he again tried to cover up by working on ways of writing a diary, now that he might have spells to help him. By the time he was requested to make dinner he was back in his normal state, only a slight step up from before.  
  
Dudley had generally avoided him without even the customary insults at the dinner table, leaving Harry to try and study the mystery at hand, hoping to gain information on how to repeat the occurrence.  
  
But hours later, he was now half asleep in a pitch black house, and had very much given up the whole idea. If only Hermione was here.  
  
Shutting the book a little too loudly and wincing as the sound echoed around the house, he slid under the tatty covers of his bed and yawned before trying to drift slowly to sleep. Hedwig hooted softly goodnight and Harry opened blurry eyes to smile at her, thankful for her company.  
  
"I am exhausted," a voice from the corner of his room seemed to say quietly, but the half-conscious boy just put it down to his imagination and replied, "Me too." Before finally falling into a deep sleep.  
  
The voice simply chuckled and then disappeared.  
  
What do you think? More about the 'new neighbour' in the next chapter – they play quite a big part *winks secretively*. By the way, how many weeks into the holidays is Harry's birthday? And how many weeks are there? 


	3. Lemonade and a lady called Hilary

Third chapter coming up – it may take a while to find this as it has moved around several accounts. But my computer is finally fixed so I will continue.  
  
Disclaimer: I am not selling this fanfic or doing any miraculous money- making. Maybe next time.  
  
** **  
  
A couple of days slipped by unnoticed by the majority of the Dursley family. Dudley got even rounder, Aunt Petunia's neck stretched even farther with the prospect of new neighbours to gossip about, and Uncle Vernon got redder – his neck having long disappeared. Even Harry Potter's life remained the same as it had three or four days ago with very little change; something which did not happen so often.  
  
Harry woke up fairly early in the morning to hear what he thought was a couple dozen squawking owls. In fact, on further inspection after clambering down the stairs (complete with tatty pyjamas and utterly unruly hair) he found the it was actually just his Aunt on full volume.  
  
Oh course, he thought, it's the day of the move.  
  
Knowing that he would probably be expected to hide out of sight for most hours of the day if anyone got invited over, Harry decided to make the best of the little time he had. Without even grabbing any breakfast he quickly returned to his room, changed into something as close to clothes as Dudley's hand-me-downs could get, and dashed out of the front door before anyone could stop him.  
  
Upon leaving the very short drive-way, he quickly turned to walk down the road and –  
  
SMACK!  
  
"Ouch..." Harry moaned as he sat up from his position on the concrete, "What in the world?"  
  
A large Moving truck was parked half way across the pavement and directly in his path. Harry stood up and looked around hoping no-one had seen his embarrassing fall.  
  
"Just hope I fare better if a Death Eater is ever standing outside the house," he muttered in annoyance.  
  
Abruptly he looked up at the sound of high pitched, very feminine laughter. Looking to the side of the truck he saw a youngish women bent-double with laughter. Her hair fell in front of her face giving Harry no idea what she looked like, but her clothes were the most outstanding part of her. Low jeans with a logo top that had to be the height of fashion were matched with small dangling earrings and black sandals.  
  
Standing next to the short and boring proper houses, she looked more than a touch out of place making Harry wonder why she would chose to move to Privet Drive of all places. His curiosity overrode his annoyance at her laughing, but he was frankly disappointed to see that when she stood up her face was about as plain as one could be. It was the type you could be looking at one second, then turn away from and immediately forget.  
  
And yet there seemed something strangely familiar about the young woman.  
  
Out of the blue she sharply stepped forward and introduced herself, still giggling as if there was something hilarious only she knew.  
  
"I'm Hilary Thomson. Pleased to meet ya," she grinned.  
  
"I'm...um...Harry Potter. Yeah, pleased to meet you too...I guess..." he stuttered incoherently. Suddenly he grinned along with her; thinking that if Ron was here he would probably already be head over heals - massive age difference or not.  
  
She frowned, "What's so funny?" she asked in an annoyed tone, "And what's with the clothes?"  
  
This time Harry frowned. How dare she just introduce herself, laugh at him then insult his clothes? Seeing his frown she burst into another fit of laughter, promptly tripping over the curb and falling flat on her face.  
  
At that precise moment Petunia strode out onto the drive wearing her sickliest sweet smile and carrying what looked like a jug and two cups of lemonade. Seeing Harry standing next to the fallen lady, her smile disappeared and her mouth became a thin line, much reminding Harry of Professor McGonagle.  
  
"I'm so deeply sorry Mrs. Thomson, look what my nephew has done!" she cried, attempting to help the woman up with her matchstick arms, "He really should be kept out of the way," she said, the comment accompanied by a glare in Harry's direction, "He's one of those criminal youths – goes to a school for the incurable among them – isn't that right, boy?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Um...yeah that's right. Terribly sorry..." Harry trailed off, as Mrs. Thomson looked like she was desperately restraining herself from dissolving into another fit of laughter. Tears started to creep to the edges of her eyes as she stifled a giggle, but managed to turn back quite pompously all the same.  
  
"That is quite all right my dear...um..."  
  
"Petunia will be fine."  
  
"Petunia. I have to say I didn't like the look of him in the first place. Oh, and call me Hilary; I'm not married anyway."  
  
Harry scowled at the insult.  
  
"Oh, you're, you're not married?" Petunia faltered. Harry wondered if it was 'ordinary' not to be married at Hilary's age. She seemed fairly young in Harry's opinion, so why should she be? "Well I just brought you out some lemonade," she regained herself, the smile plastered straight back on again.  
  
"Well um...thank you very much for your kindness. I will look forward to having you as a neighbour," Hilary added with a posh accent that he was sure she didn't have when they first met.  
  
Standing straight and tall, Hilary walked smartly over and politely took the offered glass in Petunia's hand. Delicately clasping it she twirled back around to start unloading her bags again, catching the very same curb she had fallen over before with the heel of her sandal.  
  
As if in slow motion she fell over, awkwardly grabbing Petunia who was still carrying the second glass and jug of lemonade, before dragging them both over in a tangled, sopping heap.  
  
"Eugh!" screamed Petunia shrilly, "It's in my hair!"  
  
This time it was Harry's turn to choke back laughter as Petunia rose from the ground, trembling with rage and sporting a lemonade hairstyle. She stared in horror at her favourite jug lying in shatters on the concrete, screeched at Harry and ran back into the house.  
  
"I know you did that boy and you will pay dearly!" she screamed at him.  
  
"Quite melodramatic that lady," grumbled a voice from the ground. Harry turned to help Hilary up; doing a much more successful job than Petunia had done earlier.  
  
"Great, what are my going to do about this?" Hilary moaned. Harry assumed she was talking about the giant mess in the middle of the road, but as he looked at her, he realised she was much more worried about her jeans which were now adorned with tiny rips from the glass. She too had suffered lemonade shampoo, showing up brightly on her glossy brown hair.  
  
"You could start a new trend?" Harry suggested sarcastically, still a bit stung by her earlier insults.  
  
She glared, "Oh of course I could baggy bottoms boy, and could you do me a favour by tidying this up? I'm really terrible at cleaning and I'm guessing you've had practice..."  
  
Grinning at her very true insult, she marched past Harry and towards the door of the Dursley house. On her way she paused for a second as if in concentration, and Harry was positive her hair turned a shade darker, hiding the lemonade stains considerably. He blinked and she was walking normally again as if nothing had happened. Shaking his head in disbelief and wiping he glasses, he assumed he had just imagined something strange happening for the second time in two days.  
  
Jaw set in determination, he started on the familiar task of cleaning up.  
  
** **  
  
I didn't like the chapter much, but please tell me what you think. The chapters should be getting longer soon. *Grins* Can you guess who 'Hilary' is?  
  
Signed, The Head of The Royal Association of Crafty Beagles (or Drafty Seagulls) 


	4. A Dark Dream

I love the reviews (mostly because of they have all been good)! Prettyfoot and Brace42 – thanx 4 the reviews! Only one clever person (Cyrus Malfoy) got the person...  
  
I'll try to get the chapters a bit longer as well. I agree that they're short but I do update often...*hopes that excuses are working*...  
  
Disclaimer: Again, no money involved here and the nice reviewers aren't paying me to write (unfortunately).  
  
** **  
  
She glared, "Oh of course I could baggy bottoms boy, and could you do me a favour by tidying this up? I'm really terrible at cleaning and I'm guessing you've had practice..."  
  
Grinning at her very true insult, she marched past Harry and towards the door of the Dursley house. On her way she paused for a second as if in concentration, and Harry was positive her hair turned a shade darker, hiding the lemonade stains considerably. He blinked and she was walking normally again as if nothing had happened. Shaking his head in disbelief and wiping he glasses, he assumed he had just imagined something strange happening for the second time in two days.  
  
Jaw set in determination; he started on the familiar task of cleaning up.  
  
*  
  
Harry Potter was in a decisively bad mood. He had been spent the past hour trying to pick up tiny shards of glass and his hands were now grazed and raw red. Not that he hadn't had worse tasks to do in his time, but this was in full view of the whole street! Then again, he reasoned, they already had very low opinions of him anyway, thanks to a set of very complimenting rumours laid about by Aunt Petunia. Well the low opinions depended on if the Dursley's attempts to not let anyone get a proper look at him succeeded or not.  
  
Walking back towards the house after completing the chore, Harry realised to his annoyance that the new lady Hilary was still chatting to Uncle Vernon on the doorstep, seemingly in the exact same position as she had been an hour ago.  
  
Purely from habit Harry did not announce his arrival, preferring to not be seen if possible. As he got closer he heard little snatches of the conversation including his name (or 'the boy' at least, which he was utterly used to being referred to as) and decided to listen in a bit before walking further.  
  
"You really wouldn't want to do that Mrs Thomson – he's just a nuisance and will get in your way. We just try to avoid him generally."  
  
"Well he was doing a pretty good job at tidying the mess up over there. I really think he could handle it," Hilary retorted with what seemed to be a hint of anger. Even more curious, Harry ducked behind a hedge and wondered why the lady was defending him, and moreover what she wanted him to do.  
  
"But he created the mess in the first place! It's just typical of the boy's obnoxious behaviour and I wouldn't want to put you at any risk-"  
  
"I don't think I would be in any 'risk' from 'the boy', as you call him," she said, straining painfully back into her polite voice and adding, "Of course you would like him off your hands for a while, wouldn't you? And I am having terrible trouble moving all my furniture and setting up the house..."  
  
Harry groaned as she said the last words, not particularly wanting to help anyone with heavy furniture; especially without being able to use magic to help.  
  
He decided it was high time to make his presence known back at the house and stood up, slipping into the middle of the drive as if he had just been walking down it.  
  
Seeing Harry, Hilary immediately shook a flustered Vernon's podgy hand, said very clearly, "So it's settled then. I will see you tomorrow at my house, Harry," and walked away before anything else could be said on the matter.  
  
All Harry's Uncle could do was gawp after her, before muttering "You better not doing anything out of the ordinary, boy," and stomping his way back into the house.  
  
** **  
  
The day had mostly been filled with threats starting with 'If you dare do anything unnatural at Mrs Thomson's house..." and continuing with a string of punishments Uncle Vernon would never actually carry through with. Getting into the evening when Harry was so totally sick of them that he actually pointed this out, all his Uncle could do was turn purple with his moustache on full quiver and demand that Harry go to his room.  
  
Gladly accepting this as it was by far his favourite place to be in the house, he went back to his room and decided to get an early night's sleep before having to lug heavy objects around for the whole day tomorrow.  
  
As he had just settled down on the bed, he was sure he heard the exact same voice as he had before, this time saying, "Great, all this work and he's about to fall straight asleep again."  
  
This time in his more awake state of mind he snapped into a sitting position and called out to the room; "Where are you?"  
  
The voice paused only a second before saying, "I'm right over here, come on you should be able to see me. It's not as if this room is very bi- oh damn it! I have to go but I'll come back."  
  
The conversation ended abruptly as one of Dudley's old toys was knocked over by thin air and the voice disappeared. Harry knew he wasn't imagining it this time. There definitely had been something there and next time he would have to be prepared to meet it.  
  
Settling back down again he found it harder to go to sleep than before, the mysterious voice still nagging at the edge of his mind and he fell back into unconsciousness.  
  
***A Dream Begins*** Harry felt a soaring needle sharp pain in his forehead and was suddenly staring at a closed door. This was strange – he was sure he had just been dreaming about white stags on Quidditch brooms a second ago. His head turned around without his control, and high pitched laughter erupted out of somewhere nearby. Once the pain had slightly cooled, he took in the fact that it was actually himself who the cruel sound had come from.  
  
Suddenly feeling sick in the pit of his stomach, he realised that he was seeing out of Voldemort's eyes, almost exactly like the visions he had dreamt of the previous year. Remembering that it was something very similar to this that had gotten Sirius killed, he was suddenly on guard to anything suspicious. This was one trick he would certainly not be falling for twice.  
  
Only a second after he had time to scan the room and find it was what looked like some sort of muggle storeroom, a pain flooded across his face and he seemed to be thrown sideways. Looking up through eyes still blurry with half shed tears, he met a chilling sight of the towering figure of Voldemort still standing almost directly in front of him.  
  
Only slightly flinching he noticed that Voldemort wasn't even looking in his direction, rather addressing a mass of Death Eaters spilling into the tiny room. Black cloaks billowed out behind him and a chilling voice echoed commands to the front row of figures, slitted eyes glittering red in the light. All in all he looked quite the stereotypical evil dark wizard, but then even if he hadn't done before, his image had /become/ the stereotypical dark wizard.  
  
But this couldn't be right -, he was meant to be looking /out/ of Voldemort's eyes, not from the floor beside him!  
  
Harry attempted to get up and see if any of the Death Eaters could see him, but looking down he saw he had no legs. And for that matter no body either.  
  
So what was happening? Was it just his mind (somehow having all senses) in this drafty room, or was he simply invisible?  
  
Deciding he should act now and theorize later he attempted to rise again, this time by just thinking it. Slowly but surely he went up with a slight whoosh and experimented by turning himself from side to side. Quickly getting the hang of the movement he decided it was quite fun in a queasy sort of way, and if only it had been in a different situation he would have been enjoying himself.  
  
Parking himself right next to Voldemort's head to get the best view of the room, he started listening to the speech Voldemort was giving his followers, trying to pick out any faces that might give him a clue who the Death Eaters were. He now doubted that this was some grand trick like the previous one had been, and focussed on getting any names for Dumbledore while he had the chance.  
  
Unfortunately all people were in the customary black masks he had seen before, now hanging on to every word of the 'motivating' speech.  
  
"We have been biding our time for a year now, sssearching for a weapon that proved of little importanssse in the end."  
  
Harry snorted. It was important; Voldemort had just failed to get it.  
  
"But today we ssshall make our firssst ssstand, and soon both the muggle and wizarding world will be aware of our presenssse once more," he hissed, "We ssshall be feared by all and our power regained Our act is to clean the filth of the world and in thisss hour, my faithful, we carry on where we left off!"  
  
Cheers echoed around the room. Wherever they were, they weren't worried about being heard. Or more frighteningly just didn't care.  
  
Harry slipped the front of the throbbing black crowd as a small door was opened at the front of the room. Trying to keep up the pace, he found himself going up a twisted staircase with golden numbered doors on either side.  
  
Quickly catching on that it was a fancy apartment block, Harry desperately wondered if there was anyway he could warn the muggles just beyond the walls. His other worry was that fancy apartment block were usually huge apartment blocks - there could be at least five hundred people in the building with no way of knowing what was about to happen!  
  
If Harry had had a throat he would have surely been sick as the first door crashed open and a young couple were brutally killed. Death Eaters swept from room to room, and soon the only sound that could be heard was screams and urgent sobbing.  
  
A fire had seemingly sprung out of nowhere but was merely to add panic as the flames seemed charmed away from the victims. No – fire would be too merciful compared to what the figures were doing.  
  
Harry helplessly watched the deaths of the occupants as the raid surged onwards. Desperately he got to another room that hadn't been destroyed and made great use of his bodiless self by charging straight through the closed door.  
  
Scanning the room for anyone alive inside it, he soon found an old lady who seemed to have been preparing for bed. Now she was just standing dead still in the corner as she heard the piercing screams from all directions, but seemed frozen into place out of fear or shock.  
  
Harry shouted for her to run but she was oblivious to his unheard calls. Before he even had time to try and communicate with her a Death Eater burst through the centre of the door which had somehow exploded.  
  
A wand flicked out from his sleeved and he started to snarl, "Cruc-".  
  
Purely out of instinct Harry cried "Expelliarmus!" before the man could finish the curse, and was startled as a wand flew in his direction. He tried to catch it but failed (a down point of not having hands) before almost giving a fleeting smile. He had just used wandless magic. Maybe he could actually save this woman.  
  
Turning triumphantly back to a very startled Death Eater, he began to call another curse as a sharp pain in his scar tugged him away from the situation. For a second he was once again staring out of Voldemort's eyes at a trembling family of five, but before he could see their fate he was yanked violently from the room and onto something soft and lumpy.  
  
** **  
  
This was a long chapter if you've noticed, but not a very happy one. I didn't tell you who Hilary was (I know, I know) but it just means you'll have to read the next one for that and to find out what happens. Most of the fanfic isn't going to be too dark I hope, but I'll just see how it comes along.  
  
Signed, Scary Person (that's me) 


	5. Surprises with blue hair

Disclaimer: I am not called J K Rowling, therefore anyone with any scrap of decency will know I did not write Harry Potter. The end.  
  
** **  
  
Purely out of instinct Harry cried "Expelliarmus!" before the man could finish the curse, and was startled as a wand flew in his direction. He tried to catch it but failed (a down point of not having hands) before almost giving a fleeting smile. He had just used wandless magic. Maybe he could actually save this woman.  
  
Turning triumphantly back to a very startled Death Eater, he began to call another curse as a sharp pain in his scar tugged him away from the situation. For a second he was once again staring out of Voldemort's eyes at a trembling family of five, but before he could see their fate he was yanked violently from the room and onto something soft and lumpy.  
  
** **  
  
"Harry!" a feminine voice whispered right next to his ear, "Harry! Wake up!"  
  
Harry groaned; he was back in his bed and away from the old lady. After finally performing another Wandless spell he couldn't even save one person out of five hundred! He felt sick just at the thought of all the lives and had to contain himself not to physically throw up.  
  
"Yeah I know it's the middle of the night and all that, but you need to come now you lazy boots!" the person exclaimed, misinterpreting his groan altogether.  
  
"Woah, you look sick there. Well don't throw up on me mister."  
  
Thankfully the person had backed out of his face and Harry groggily sat up. It was over. There was nothing he could do.  
  
"For one last time, wake up!"  
  
A hand flicked on the light and Harry squinted to see who the person was. The very annoyed form of Hilary stood in front of him with hands on hips.  
  
"Hilar- I mean Mrs Thomson? What are you doing here? Scratch that, how in the world did you even get in here?" he gawked at her.  
  
Hilary doubled over with laughter and Harry had to shush her several times in fear of waking the Dursleys.  
  
"Oh yeah, your grotty old uncle. I forgot. Do you have any idea how much he gets on my nerves? I wish I could just magic that twitchy moustache right off his fat face!"  
  
Harry took a moment to register this. "You're a witch?"  
  
"Of course I am dumb brains - oh wait! I forgot again, you still think I'm Hilary! Silly me, just wait one sec please..."  
  
Hilary scrunched up her nose in a very familiar way and suddenly her hair was bright blue, and a very familiar face was grinning down at Harry from her standing place.  
  
"That's a bit better, don't you think?"  
  
Her grin grew even wider at Harry's dumbfounded expression.  
  
"Tonks?"  
  
"Well it looks like it doesn't it?" She chuckled, "Surprised?"  
  
"Very. But...you're moving in next door? And what about your voice and your...um...clothes? And you're part of the Order; you can't be spending time here, can you? That's just pointless and moreover I was never told about it!" As he regained his breath he suddenly remembered the day before and added, "You made me clean up that mess you made!"  
  
Tonks smirked delightfully and responded, "I know, hilarious don't you think? But I didn't expect your relatives to blame you for it. I worked on the polite acting skills for ages but I still had trouble keeping my temper with that man. God, if I was the one living with them I don't know what I would have done to them by now!"  
  
"Well once I did blow up my Aunt Marge," replied Harry with a wry grin.  
  
"Seriously?" Tonks chuckled curiously, "But back to your questions; I am moving in next door, my voice has got a really fun charm on it," she waved her wand and was suddenly speaking an octave lower for demonstration, "And my clothes, well I did have a muggle Mother you know. What, did you just expect me to have no fashion sense like most witches do? I saw Professor McGonagle in muggle London one day and she was wearing the most hideous-"  
  
"Back on to the questions, Nymphadora," Harry said smugly.  
  
Tonks spared a second to glare at him before continuing, "Well we've done the moving next door one, the voice, the clothes – ah, yes I am obviously in the Order but Dumbledore reckons you need protection and um, some other reasons," she positively beamed at this point, strongly hinting at some secret.  
  
"But I guess he didn't tell you. Never mind, you'll find out soon enough. Actually," she added glancing at the clock on the wall, "You were meant to find out about five minutes ago. Now stop getting me rambling and get a move on out of this house!"  
  
"Well as long as the Death Eaters don't attack with jugs of lemonade you'll do a great job at protecting me," Harry muttered as he followed Tonks into the hallway.  
  
"I heard that!" she whispered fiercely.  
  
*  
  
It turned out they were only going next door anyway, and as Tonks explained the timing was only because she wasn't sure how they were going to be arriving. When Harry asked who 'they' were, Tonks just shrugged opened the door. She led him into a very bare living room, with only four armchairs and a crackling fire. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagle were already occupying two of them and Tonks plonked down into the third, leaving Harry standing awkwardly, not sure whether to sit or not.  
  
"Ah Harry," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling in the firelight, "We have some things that we need to discuss with you."  
  
The comment alone somehow made it clear Harry was expected to sit down. Sinking into the chair he thought to himself that it was surprisingly comfortable, before remembering his vision he had been in just a while before and instantly decided to take it as a good opportunity to tell Dumbledore.  
  
"But," the old wizard continued, "I believe there is something you wanted to tell us first?"  
  
Without even pausing to wonder how he had known that, Harry launched into the story of his vision, only skimming over the part about his wandless magic. He did want some secrets of his own after all.  
  
At the end of the tale Dumbledore merely nodded.  
  
"Yes, we were informed from various sources that this had just happened but unfortunately the information came too late to help," he sighed.  
  
Harry had known for quite a while that Snape was spying for the light, but he didn't remember if he was meant to know who these 'sources' were so kept silent.  
  
"As for your view point in the apparition, I would assume that Tom has attempted to block you from his mind but underestimated the connection you share."  
  
Harry winced and the mention of their 'connection', remembering his the end of his forth year. The last thing he wanted was any connection with the most evil man of the century. Or possibly millennium.  
  
"Instead of your mind rebounding into your body, I suppose it was just...pushed out, so to speak."  
  
Harry nodded, that was exactly what it had felt like anyway with a bit of added pain.  
  
"There is nothing we can do to stop you from seeing these visions, they will probably happen more frequently from now on. That is unless Voldemort finds a more successful way of stopping them."  
  
"That's OK, they might come in useful I guess," Harry shrugged, inwardly appalled at the thought of watching another mass murder like the last one. "But why did Voldemort just strike out like that? I mean he didn't do anything drastic all of last year. And then he would have had the element of surprise as well."  
  
By now the conversation was solely between Harry and Dumbledore; McGonagle and Tonks had even stopped wincing every time the word 'Voldemort' was mentioned.  
  
"He never really had the element of surprise as the people who mattered already knew of the rebirth. Even far over a decade ago in his last rise, the ministry was of little help. The Order is used to relying on themselves. Now that Fudge is appropriately forced to face the public with the fact of Voldemort's return, I am guessing Riddle wants to 'start with a bang' as the phrase goes. If the public knows that he is back, he'll want to give them something to be frightened of," stated Dumbledore casually, "Lemon drop?" he offered, flourishing a tin out of nowhere.  
  
Harry accepted one as did Tonks (though she hadn't actually been offered) and both sat back in their chairs, expecting Dumbledore to carry on talking.  
  
"But now I must ask how you are doing, Harry. You seemed to have calmed down slightly from our last meeting, though I do not at all blame you for your actions. As for my letter I did not get a response, but that issue may have to be postponed due to certain events anyway," Harry gave a jerked movement which might have represented a nod, not wanting to broach the issue of Sirius's death in the slightest.  
  
"So instead I will ask you how you are finding the news of the Prophecy. I can honestly say I have no idea how you have reacted to it in the slightest..." he finished awkwardly, obviously wanting to relate some sympathetic words, but not sure of how to go about it.  
  
"Actually I'm fine about it compared...to, um..." he faltered, unwilling to admit to Sirius's death out loud, "Well I suppose I always I assumed I'd have something to do with his fall in the end, so this way is only a little more direct," he finished, hoping he hadn't sounded to big headed.  
  
"Of course he is OK with it - positively delighted if you ask me," snapped a voice just emerging from the fireplace, "This is Harry Potter we are talking about is it not? A little added fame was never did do any good for his ego."  
  
"That will be fine Severus," Dumbledore said mildly.  
  
"Why in the world is Snape here!" exclaimed Harry a little too quickly to stop himself.  
  
"Yes Mister Potter I am here, and I see your rude attitude has not lightened since the end of last year in the slightest. That will be twenty- "  
  
"And may I just add no points can be taken, or detentions issued before the start of term," McGonagle interrupted, speaking for the first time.  
  
Snape and McGonagle glared daggers at each other while Harry looked as if Snape's appearance from the fireplace was likely as bad as a death sentence.  
  
"This is going to be a long night..." Tonks muttered.  
  
** **  
  
Not a terribly long chapter but TWO IN ONE NIGHT! Now that I've been nice and posted this, I expect lot's of nice reviewers please. Read the next chapter and find out the real reason Tonks is moving in next door...  
  
Signed, Scary person, Who should now more appropriately be named 'bored beyond belief' person (a very clever name someone called themselves). 


	6. Talk of Lessons from a Death Eater

Ok...I don't think the last chapter was very good because Harry had just seen murders/tortures by the dozen and wasn't suitably depressed (I agree with prettyfoot). This chapter I am going to attempt to do the impossible and make up for that.  
  
Thanx to prettyfoot, random, half asleep 2, amyranth, messrmarauder017, annonymousTK and Pennie() for encouraging (and helpful) reviews – keep em coming!  
  
Disclaimer: I'm getting kind of bored of these. If you've read the chapters before you get the general idea anyway.  
  
** **  
  
A world thrown into devastation,  
  
As it tries to grasp at the situation,  
  
A bond that knots but won't untie,  
  
Connects a hatred that will never die,  
  
One dark one light, in preparation,  
  
Prepared to fight, with no hesitation,  
  
Two destinies deeply entwined,  
  
Battle for the fate of humankind.  
  
By me.  
  
** **  
  
"Of course he is OK with it - positively delighted if you ask me," snapped a voice just emerging from the fireplace, "This is Harry Potter we are talking about is it not? A little added fame was never did do any good for his ego."  
  
"That will be fine Severus," Dumbledore said mildly.  
  
"Why in the world is Snape here!" exclaimed Harry a little too quickly to stop himself.  
  
"Yes Mister Potter I am here, and I see your rude attitude has not lightened since the end of last year in the slightest. That will be twenty- "  
  
"And may I just add no points can be taken, or detentions issued before the start of term," McGonagle interrupted, speaking for the first time.  
  
Snape and McGonagle glared daggers at each other while Harry looked as if Snape's appearance from the fireplace was likely as bad as a death sentence.  
  
"This is going to be a long night..." Tonks muttered.  
  
** **  
  
"Ok let's settle down here," Dumbledore gently commanded, "And Severus, do take a seat please. Lemon drop?"  
  
Snape sneered and shook his head at the muggle candy before conjuring himself a seat much like the other four and sitting down.  
  
"Um, how did you do that?" Harry started, "I thought the ministry had put all sorts of magic detecting charms around here from last year."  
  
"It's a simple boundary charm, Potter. I would have thought even you would have heard of one," smirked Snape.  
  
Ignoring this Harry continued, this time turning to Dumbledore instead, "So does this charm stop magic from being detected at the Dursley's house as well?"  
  
Of course, he thought, this was probably the reason he had used magic without any ministry complaints. If Dumbledore had put a boundary charm (whatever it happened to be) on the Dursley's house as well, then there would be no reason for his previous spell to have caused any attention. It would explain everything perfectly.  
  
Dumbledore frowned, "No it doesn't. To my knowledge it only covers this house and Mrs Fig's, in case you should want to go there. May I ask if there is any reason you want to know?"  
  
Perplexed once more, Harry simply shrugged and waited for the conversation to continue. He was itching for the talk to be over so he could try out the Wandless Spells once more – he had an idea how to succeed with them again.  
  
"May I ask what you have already told Potter of the situation?" inquired Snape most nonchalantly, "I had some...pressing matters to attend to and couldn't make it here at the arranged time."  
  
Harry froze. It hadn't really sunk in on him that Snape himself would have probably been present at the mass murder he had witnessed. Snape could have been any one of the cruel figures in black, laughing and killing muggles as they stormed through the building.  
  
Harry felt disgusted. Whether or not Snape was a spy seemed trivial and an instant loathing overcame Harry as he struggled not to be sick. Before he had been almost able to pretend that it had simply been an unusual – albeit extremely disturbing – dream that he had to report to Dumbledore, but this made it far too real.  
  
With the sudden appearance of Tonks and being whisked out from his house, he had pushed aside the memory quite effectively. Now images came resurfacing to his mind, swimming in front of him like some grotesque nightmare.  
  
/A girl screaming as she watched her mother fall...  
  
A father desperately shielding his children...  
  
A dead body of a young lover...  
  
An old couple screaming in agony...  
  
A lonely man looking like he'd given in to the cruel  
fate of the world.../  
  
"Potter, are you listening?" asked the exasperated voice of Professor McGonagle, "Harry James Potter? Are you even going to respond to me?" Turning to the other three in the room she tentatively asked, "He looks quite ill, do you know if he has caught anything recently? We could call Poppy down here..."  
  
"No need Minerva. This is just trauma I should think but..." the Headmaster trailed off, wondering with curiosity and worry just how much the child had figured out about the Potions Masters current...night-time occupation. He had seemed to be coping suspiciously well until the man had entered the room.  
  
"Severus, have you ever mention anything of the sort-"  
  
"No." responded Snape flatly, cutting off any conversation in that area, "Why should that have anything to do with Potter?" he said, practically spitting the name.  
  
At the sound of either his own name of Snape's voice, Harry seemed to come out of his dazed look and was suddenly on the alert. His eyes narrowed as he looked over to Snape before turning to his other two Professors and asking, "Sorry, I just was out of it for a second there. Did I miss anything?"  
  
The two shared a glance before McGonagle answer cautiously, "Before we were...distracted...the Headmaster was just telling Professor Snape that we had not quite broached the subject of your lessons because of other news you were telling-"  
  
"That's right, just cut me out of the conversation!" exclaimed an extremely grumpy Tonks, "I was the one to get him; I'm the one to tell the story. Harry or 'Potter' as you might prefer" she added with a growly imitation of Snape's voice, "Had a certain dream, vision-type-thing or whatever you wish to call it, which it is perfectly obvious you already know the details of. Harry was just telling Dumbledore about it and related stuff."  
  
At the protests of three Professors she glared and continued.  
  
"And further more it is perfectly obvious that Harry knows that Snape knows the details of his what-its-called, considering his reaction to Snape when he came barging into the room. So if you would all stop skirting around the subject and answer some questions I think we all would be happy."  
  
At some raised eyebrows she sighed and said, "Fine, so 'happy' was the wrong word. Maybe 'getting through the night before we all fall asleep in our chairs' would be more appropriate.  
  
With that to end her confusing speech she crossed her arms triumphantly and leant back in her chair, with a look that said "Now I will sit back and watch you all struggle to respond to /that/".  
  
There was a short silence that Harry was the first to eventually break.  
  
"So you're basically saying that I know Snape is a spy? Great way of going about it," Harry said sarcastically. Actually he was slightly relieved; he wouldn't have to explain any strange behaviour around the man anymore.  
  
"That's /Professor/ Snape," McGonagle habitually corrected.  
  
Dumbledore nodded as if he had expected this all along and Snape visibly paled. Having anyone witnessed what he did as a Death Eater wasn't on his top ten wish list, and it was utterly typical that the one person to do it would be the Potter brat. He thanked the heavens that Death Eaters actually wore masks so at least he wouldn't be identified. But then almost all the actions were the same anyway – it hardly mattered.  
  
How in the world would Potter have found out a thing like that anyway? Did he just have some insight into finding out what he wasn't meant to? Even back to his year he had found out how to get past that blasted three-headed dog and into a whole realm of trouble, again coming out as the perfect hero. In his second year he somehow knew all about the chamber of secrets, in his third – well Snape wouldn't even carry on past there. For someone so bad at anything to do with the process of reading minds, he was remarkably good at digging up secrets.  
  
"Just absolutely brilliant," Snape muttered sardonically.  
  
"I know what you mean," replied Harry dryly, trying to get across he no more wish to be watching Death Eater antics than Snape wanted him to be.  
  
"You have no need to be agreeing with me Potter," Snape snapped pointedly.  
  
Harry glared back.  
  
"Just as long as there aren't any jars of cockroaches around," he mumbled to himself.  
  
Tonks laughed. "What in the world is that meant to mean?"  
  
Harry blushed.  
  
"Well last year when I, um...stumbled upon something Snape – I mean /Professor/ Snape – really didn't want me to see, I...kind of ended...ended up covered in cockroaches."  
  
Tonks burst out laughing and even Dumbledore chuckled warmly. Snape however, did not look at all amused.  
  
"You did not stumble upon that Potter, you deliberately invaded my privacy. If it was up to me you would be expelled, that is of course if all the other times you rightfully should have been had not been looked over," abruptly ignoring Harry he spoke to the transfiguration Professor, "Professor McGonagle, I can not teach a pupil like Potter in the best of circumstances, but without the ability of taking points from his precious Gryffindor I fear it will be impossible. With as low an intelligence rate as his it seems to be the only thing that he reacts to."  
  
Eyes narrowing Mcgonagle responded, "You forget that I happen to be the Head of Gryffindor house, and certainly do not trust you to take points only when necessary-"  
  
"I'm being taught by Snape in the summer?" Harry cut her off, glancing over to apologise for being so rude.  
  
"And onto our next topic," Dumbledore started cheerfully, "Harry's summer lessons. You haven't by any chance had your OWL results yet have you, Harry?"  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"They were actually quite remarkable. In particular you managed to earn an Exceeding Expectations in Potions which is surprising because it isn't your strongest point, or so I am very forcefully told."  
  
Harry groaned. Though this was far better than he had dreamed of, he knew that Snape only allowed students getting Outstanding into his NEWT class. That basically cut off the option of becoming an Auror completely as Harry remembered from the rather heated Careers discussion that a Potion NEWT was essential.  
  
"But when informed that you wished to be an Auror I was tempted to ask Snape to make an exception to his general rule of perfection, and allow you into his class. Unfortunately Snape declined, but we settled on the agreement that he could give you tutored lessons to catch up to standard over the Summer holidays."  
  
"We did not agree," Snape spat out, giving a glare that could probably kill at fifty paces, "I was forced into wasting my time on for a hopeless cause."  
  
Wishing he could shrink into the already over-large chair, Harry desperately tried to think of a reason he shouldn't get lessons from Snape. Apart from the obvious that he might not come back to Hogwarts in one piece, he could think of nothing to say to the old wizard that would change his mind.  
  
Yes, he did want to be an Auror, but he already had to endure Snape at school and this was just insane! Snape would hate him even more, make the lessons impossible and he would never learn anything!  
  
"But won't he be kind of busy doing, um..." Harry stopped himself from saying torturing and murdering dozens of innocents and just went quiet. The thought that anyone could pick a life for themselves like that was repulsive, even if they did change their minds in the end. And Harry was sitting right next to one of those people.  
  
"No I will not," snarled Snape, "I will be attempting to teach you in the daytime whereas any other duties quite obviously happen at night."  
  
Harry simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak.  
  
"Can I just ask how, how many are..." Harry gulped in a shaky breath and avoided saying the word 'dead'.  
  
"Injured?" he supplied.  
  
"None left alive are injured, but close to six hundred dead." Snape briefly closed his eyes and replied without a single sarcastic comment.  
  
Harry simply shook his head and stared at the floor, eyes rimmed red with unshed tears for six hundred killed.  
  
A respective moment of silence was shattered by Nymphadora Tonks once again.  
  
"Look, the depressing talk isn't getting us anywhere," stated Tonks, "Even though Harry didn't seem to notice, /I/ remember Dumbledore saying something about 'lessons', as in implying more than one," she grinned, "Really Harry, I thought you would be at least a bit more curious. Why d'ya think I'm here after all?"  
  
** **  
  
A/N: By the way I have been informed by those cleverer than I that Tonk's Mum was actually magical and her Dad was a muggle. I have a very bad memory and apologise for the mistake.  
  
Not a great chapter but pleez tell me what you think! Do you like the poem at the beginning or do my poems suck? Are the characters wrong? Are their reactions wrong? Is there something in the plot you think I should slip in? When is Harry's birthday (how many weeks into the holidays)?  
  
Signed, Scary Person. 


	7. A Funny End to a Long Conversation

Disclaimer: Not JK. Stop bothering me.  
  
** **  
  
"Look, the depressing talk isn't getting us anywhere," stated Tonks, "Even though Harry didn't seem to notice, /I/ remember Dumbledore saying something about 'lessons', as in implying more than one," she grinned, "Really Harry, I thought you would be at least a bit more curious. Why d'ya think I'm here after all?"  
  
** **  
  
At this Harry's head snapped up and he struggled a smile.  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you'd make a great teacher, Tonks," he replied, not even quite sure if he was being serious or just teasing her.  
  
Tonks frowned, "Actually I think I'd make a great teacher."  
  
"Sure Tonks," Harry grinned, successfully distracted from the previous conversation, "You'd possibly be the most professional teacher ever: 'Hey Harry, what nose do you want me to have today? I reckon this stuff's dead boring anyway so just do what you like!'" he imitated playfully.  
  
"Yeah well that's Professor Tonks to you," she smirked back.  
  
"No way!" he complained, "Just because you're teaching me who-knows-what over the holidays doesn't make me have to call you Professor!"  
  
A wide grin split across Tonk's face with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Watching her cautiously he hesitantly asked, "Is there something I don't know?"  
  
"Maybe there is Mister Dares-to-tease-Tonk's-and-thinks-he'll-get-away-with- it. Because you happen to be looking at your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor!"  
  
Harry's jaw fell open.  
  
"And for being so rude," Tonks added in a faked pompous tone, giving herself a high black bun and pinched lips, "I think I will take ten points from Gryffindor!"  
  
She burst out laughing at Harry's shocked expression, only to be cut short by a drawl from the side.  
  
"I believe you /cannot/ take points in the Summer holidays Nymphadora," smirked Snape, "Or so I am told."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled and this time Harry burst out laughing.  
  
"Well where is the fun in that," she half whined returning to her normal bright blue hair and now pouting lips.  
  
"My point exactly," responded Snape dryly.  
  
Harry stared. What the potion master had just said could possibly – with some stretches of the imagination – be taken as humorous. Harry briefly entertained the idea that this man was just a fake taking the Polyjuice Potion, but instantly disregarded it as ludicrous. The previous insults were far too Snape-like.  
  
"Glad to see you in such a pleasant mood, Severus," said McGonagle with amused eyes, watching Harry stare in disbelief at the dark haired man.  
  
Snape instantly resumed his glare and sank back into the chair, cutting himself out of the conversation.  
  
"So carrying on, I presume you are wondering what /Professor/ Tonks is going to be teaching you through the next few weeks," Dumbledore spoke again with Tonks grinning at the title he gave her, "But I'm afraid that the beginning of that explanation borders on the depressing subjects we were discussing earlier."  
  
The old wizard paused before continuing.  
  
"We have been told again from certain sources-"  
  
"We've already been through the whole 'certain sources' thing," interrupted Tonks, "Let me rephrase that for you; 'Snape has come along back from a Death Eater meeting and told us...' Ok, you can carry on from there."  
  
Harry and Snape both winced at the reference, remembering the night's events, but Tonks didn't seem to notice in the slightest.  
  
Dumbledore started again, "Professor Snape has informed us that Voldemort has become an animagus, and through your...bond...we believe you could become one as well."  
  
Harry sat dumbfounded. Learning to be an animagus? But that usually took years of training! Would it really be possible in just a few weeks? And what animal would he become? Would it be a stag like his father?  
  
Questions swirled around his head and he just sat there nonplussed, trying to think of something to say.  
  
"What animal is Voldemort?" he asked dumbly.  
  
"Really Potter, I would think even someone with your limited intelligence would be able to guess the answer to that question," Snape sneered.  
  
"Ok, ok. A snake then," said Harry, annoyed at himself for giving Snape an opportunity.  
  
"Well I do believe he's got it! Never fails to astonish me everyday..." Snape responded sarcastically.  
  
Ignoring this Harry asked, "But shouldn't Professor McGonagle be teaching me?"  
  
"Though it would be my pleasure I am too involved with Order work at the moment. However, Professor Tonks," Harry made a face at the word 'Professor', "still has impressive transfiguration abilities thanks to being a Metamorphagis, and I will be owling her lesson plans for you to do."  
  
"There is really no need to do that, dear Minerva," interjected Tonks in what she must have considered a professional voice, "I will be taking the role as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts in Autumn you know, and am perfectly capable of planning my own lessons. You should see the...interesting...things I have planned for them at Hogwarts..."  
  
Harry had absolutely no idea what sort of lessons Tonks was planning to teach them, but by the mischievous glint in her eye he decided he might not want to know.  
  
He groaned good humouredly, "You mean to tell me that after somehow surviving watching mass murders God-only-knows how often, then avoiding any plans dear old Voldemort may have for me up his sleeve, even more scarily trying to stay in one piece in Snape's summer potion lessons, maintaining my sanity in Tonk's animagus classes, avoiding any death plots the Dursley's are planning for me and somehow getting to school alive (that is also assuming demetors don't attack Privet Drive this year), I am meant to go into a classroom run by Nymphadora Tonks and expect to get out alive? Somehow I doubt it."  
  
"That's Professor Snape, Potter, though I also doubt you will manage to live through any extra potion lessons considering you poor talent in class. I couldn't pick a worse student to be teaching other than perhaps Longbottom."  
  
"And that's also Professor Tonks, Potter" echoed Tonks with glare only slightly ruined by a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, "and...um...yeah, whatever he said without the ugly expression."  
  
"Now you do realise that... insulting your colleagues... might be setting me a very bad example?" Harry asked between uncontrollable laughs.  
  
Tonks looked a little put out and promptly tried to think of something educational to reply.  
  
"Well as the saying goes, do as I say not as I do," she replied grinning at her success.  
  
"But it was...what you said...that was wrong in the first place!" he managed to choke out half incoherently.  
  
The blue-haired witch frowned and glanced at Snape who all but had his head in his hands.  
  
"If you put these two imbeciles in a room and expect something constructive to come of it," he muttered rudely to Dumbledore, "You have indeed turned into an insane old man."  
  
"You shouldn't insult your colleagues," tutted Tonks and Harry simultaneously.  
  
They both burst out laughing and somehow lived through the murderous death glares being sent their way.  
  
It very much looked like Harry Potter's summer might not be so bad after all.  
  
** **  
  
A/N: A short chapter I know. Never mind, and thanx to all the nice reviewing people. *Glares at Amyranth who didn't review* Pleez comment on what you think and how I can improve.  
  
Signed, Emma Javelle T (a sucky name I know) 


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